A Boy and His Dog
by Felix McKraken
Summary: An exploration of Vegeta's past that seems almost surreal. After being locked up in prison, our prince gets a room-mate who believes that something is 'following him home'. Like with most things, being followed usually is not for benevolent reasons...
1. Background Check One, Two

**A Boy and His Dog**  
_Background Check - One, Two_  
A/N: I probably will use several variations of the name "Frieza" including "Freiza", "Freeza", and (insert comedy third option here). I also spell Saiyan "Saijin" even though I know it's wrong.  
ALSO: THIS STORY CONTAINS OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE. Do not tell me that a bunch of males in a military setting do not curse. It happens. It's in this story. I don't use them every other word but they are there. If this bothers you, then I really don't care. Thanks! :)  
  
  
"All dead?" the prince repeated, hoping that this was all just some major, major misunderstanding.  
  
"Yes," Dodoria sighed in irritation. "ALL DEAD. It was a freak accident involving meteors or comets or something.." he said dismissively.  
  
Vegeta stared blankly with his face locked in an expression of horror that one wore when noticing something particularly venomous and ugly mere inches away. He turned to the large, pink man, unable to speak for a moment. "You don't even _know_?" he asked incredulously, and for a second he looked as if he would cry. But this wasn't a "boo hoo, my whole race is dead" type of thing. This was more like "my god, your sheer idiocy makes me wish to weep for all intelligent life forms out there, carbon based or not".  
  
"Meteors and comets..." Vegeta looked into the man's eyes while gesturing oddly, probably from shock, "They're two different things. Two really different things. Which was it?"  
  
Dodoria really felt like doing something both mean and stupid -like punch the kid in the stomach. He resisted the urge. "A meteor or an asteroid or something!" he said in frustration, cursing Freiza silently in his head for having to deal with this child. He hated children so very much and this little bastard was no different.  
  
"Now it could've been an asteroid!?" Vegeta was about to go out of his mind.  
  
The pink mass known as Dodoria flushed from embarrassment. The truth was, he didn't know the difference between a meteor, or an asteroid, or a comet. Were they not all chunks of rock or condensed gypsy corpses? (Now would be a good time as any to mention that Dodoria, the ignorant, useless cretin that he is, was also very gullible. He believed that gypsies, regardless of origin, did not die. Therefore, the word "corpse" is used very loosely. In conclusion, this dumb putz believed gypsies were condensed into giant balls and launched into space whenever it was felt necessary.) "Look!" he shouted at the diminutive figure several feet below him, "Why don't you go play 'ask a million stupid questions' with someone else, or whatever it is that little brats do!"  
  
"Why don't _you_ learn the difference between a giant piece of rock and a giant piece of ice?" the now fuming prince replied.  
  
"How dare you insult my education!" roared Dodoria.  
  
"_What education_!?" Vegeta shot back, but then realized, too late, that it was not the right thing to say at that moment in time. He knew this because he was picked up by the scruff of the neck. "Put me down!" the brunette demanded, swinging pathetically at the elder, his fists nowhere near the pudgy torso. He was carted down the hall where Dodoria was now, proudly, trying to make a spectacle of both of them. Vegeta had, at this point, managed to wrap his arms and legs around the thick, bulbous arm, and was attempting to gnaw off the hand that held him to no avail.  
  
Seeing the direction in which they were heading, Vegeta bit harder and was disappointed to see that it wasn't resulting in any of his desired effects. The two large doors opened inward for them and Dodoria halted in the middle of the room where there was the most light. The prince was still struggling, but it was only half-hearted now. He was distracted by the chair that hung in the shadows. He knew who was in that chair.  
  
"What would be the problem?" a cool voice asked from that chair.  
  
"He wouldn't keep his mouth shut," Dodoria offered.  
  
"Set him down," that voice ordered. It was done. "Prince Vegeta, I understand that your home world has ceased to exist," Freiza (of course it's Freiza, who else would it be?) said.  
  
"So I've heard," Vegeta spoke, his eyes narrowing, turning into a glare as he looked at a failed version of 'The Blob', "It was a meteor or an asteroid or a comet, or _something_." He didn't hide his growl of annoyance. All he wanted was a straight answer. His people had suddenly been winked out of existence, and now he didn't even know exactly how or why. Dodoria reared his arm back, ready to smack the kid, when Freiza spun the chair around and spoke.  
  
"Meteors, my dear, little monkey," Freiza, naturally, lied.  
  
In the prince's head, he already had two arguments formed, but he knew better than to make mention of them. Firstly, those meteors had to be fucking huge and there had to be a lot of them for his people to not be able to destroy them. Secondly, he was a Saijin, not a monkey. Even as a child, our lucky Vegeta was perceptive, and he detected the lie. Unfortunately, this information would be forgotten after the series of events that follows. (Which is a great deal of years worth.) In a fit of utter hopelessness, the prince told Frieza, "Yeah? Well, at least I don't look gay."  
  
Needless to say, Frieza was not amused.  
  
"Dodoria," he said, face screwing up in some sort of pinkish-purple color to indicate he was flushing angrily, "You may hit him."  
  
For once, Vegeta just sort of relaxed and accepted his fate. In his mind, it was worth the insult and injury. A large fist crammed itself into his stomach, knocking all the breath out of him. Doubling over with eyes wide, the prince couldn't help himself, "F..F...Fag..." He didn't even realize when he lost consciousness, or why.  
  
He came to in a holding cell, and a rather spacious one at that. His body ached, and he was definitely sore from the abuse that had been rained upon him. Mumbling some curses, the prince eventually got to his feet and wobbled over to the door. He knocked on it to get the guard's attention. Some squat alien peered in through the super Plexiglas and talked through an intercom. "What do you want?" he was blunt.  
  
"Uh..." Vegeta groaned, leaning over and bracing his hands on his knees, "So why...why am I in here again?"  
  
"You're either really brave, really stupid, or really suicidal," the alien replied with some weird, thick accent, "You said Frieza looked gay, and to his face no less. He now wants you in here until you learn your lesson."  
  
"I'm going to die a bitter, old man then," Vegeta thought out loud.  
  
"Enjoy your stay," replied the guard. 


	2. Tally Ho

**A Boy and His Dog**  
_Tally Ho_  
  
Vegeta had to sit on the heels of his feet just so he could be eye level with the other man. He held the receiver against his ear, while his other hand supported him on the counter. He shifted his heels so they weren't digging into his buttocks, and sighed a haughty sigh. Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, he finally said, "Yeeah..." It was one of those evil, sarcastic yeahs. "And how do I know you're telling the truth?" the prince concluded.  
  
Across from him, through a thick sheet of super Plexiglas, sat Freiza's right hand, also known as Zarbon. Zarbon was youthful and feminine, and coincidentally, also very pretty. He tied his luxurious green hair into a braided ponytail, and loved to get manicures and pedicures in his free time. He also had piercing yellow eyes and a way with women. In battle, he could make himself turn into something akin to a toad, and it was a really ugly one to boot. This magically made him win the fight. As much as there was known about Zarbon, there was never conclusive evidence to any rumor one way or the other. This is how Dodoria came to believe that he was a gypsy, and therefore, was scared shitless of him. Vegeta, however, thought he was just an asshole, and at the moment, a lying asshole at that.  
  
"I have your proof," the alien countered calmly, "but if you want to chat it's going to cost you."  
  
"What do I have that you want?" Vegeta wondered, seriously stumped.  
  
"Radditz," Zarbon said with a dead pan expression.  
  
"What the Hell is a radditz?" the child asked himself aloud, but then he dismissed the entire train of thought, "Forget it. It's yours."  
  
"Thank you," Zarbon actually smiled now, "and here is your goods."  
  
He stood and backed away from the window; then he walked out of sight. Vegeta sighed again, but this time it was more like a "god, I don't want to deal with this bullshit" kind of sigh. He then saw a large man blunder into his view. Large was pretty much an understatement. This guy was huge. His muscles bulged under the standard armor Freiza's soldiers were provided, and his legs were as thick as tree trunks - the big kind of tree trunks that come from big trees. Hey, Vegeta thought, he looks like...  
  
The man picked up the phone, and he picked it up upside down.  
  
"A big inept retard," Vegeta's thought concluded itself with a sense of mortified doom. This was a rare occasion where Vegeta wished his first impression had been incorrect. The other Saijin began to talk, but all the prince heard was a muffled baritone voice that sounded much like a thug gangster trying to sweet talk his way through an interview with someone as intellectual as The Architect from "The Matrix: Reloaded". With Vegeta being that Architect, in his mind, at that moment, he began to seriously believe that destruction was a form of construction.  
  
In a fit of despair, and in a daring move to save his sanity, Vegeta dropped his phone and simply covered his face in shame. He felt shame for every last member of his race; every last brainless drone whose idea of "improving" their space shuttles and pods was to put spoilers on the end; every last ignorant cunt who wanted nice things like chrome-plated scouters and dishwasher safe glass fists; every last punk who wanted to be individualistic by dyeing their hair - as if some other mentally handicapped crack fiend hadn't done it before; every last military officer who thought to shoot first and ask questions later; and lastly, for this fine specimen before him that nearly proved that robots were the cure. Vegeta reached a point were he wished he could cry, but was glad that he did not.  
  
On the other side of the super Plexiglas, another man approached the giant buffoon. He had long, black hair, and it was spiky as was characteristic of a Saijin (which he was). He was very big too, but not nearly so as the balding idiot. After his attempts to show the other man how to operate the phone were futile, he finally took the phone for himself and tapped on the glass. Vegeta looked up at the noise and picked up his end.  
  
"Prince Vegeta," spoke a smooth, calm voice. The voice was of an elderly brother who always knew what to say said, "My name is Radditz, sir. I have been ranked third class." Mentally, Vegeta could see where this was going, so he only forced himself to nod. "This, sir," he gestured to the man next to him, "is Nappa. He's a first class general. He apologizes for whatever he said to upset you, my lord. He meant no ill intentions." Vegeta nodded minutely again.  
  
Radditz shifted uncomfortably from leaning over so far, "Sir, we will obey you. My prince, what is your command?"  
  
"Get me something to read," Vegeta was surprised with his own honesty, "It's boring in here."  
  
"I can make no promises at the type of material I will be able to collect, or even if it will be in a language you have heard of."  
  
The Prince of Saijins really didn't care at this point. In fact, he thought the more time consuming it was the better. If he had to translate something akin to sanskrit on this own..then so be it. He was about to say something else, what though, he wasn't sure. He was positive it didn't matter because when he opened his mouth to speak and the guard cut him off, he didn't mind.  
  
"Time's up," his cell block guard said, "Say goodbye, and let's go."  
  
Radditz frowned, hating to see his prince being degraded like this. The leader of such a powerful race should not be treated like a common prisoner. Instead of talking about the injustice, he said, "Lord Vegeta, I will be in contact with you shortly."  
  
"Yeah," Vegeta replied, "Okay." And he hung up the phone. 


	3. Fast Forward

**A Boy and His Dog**  
_Fast Forward_  
  
Four years pass, and Vegeta still lives in what he calls "Cell Block Number Bullshit". The guard tried to correct him on many occasions. ("It's Cell Block Number Nine," he'd practically plead for the youth to agree, "And it's not bullshit." Vegeta would shake his head and say he was just trying to skirt around the issue. Whatever the issue may have been, the guard never found out.) If Vegeta was good, meaning, he wasn't passing insults - even to those who deserved it - he was allowed some "probation" time. He was also allowed to leave for missions/planet purging. His guard would escort him to and from the cargo bay, and he was always punctual, which in turn made Vegeta very punctual.  
  
Speaking of the guard, his name was Syx. He was of some race that Vegeta never cared to learn the name of, and enjoyed his job enough to make him tolerate it. Though usually he didn't give a flying-fuck about any of the criminals, he did hold a soft spot for Vegeta. The prince was crass and tactless, but on second thought, that's what Syx liked about him. Vegeta, in short, was a typical guy, albeit, a bit mature for his age. Also, like any security guard, he liked adult magazines and lounging around on the clock when he could.  
  
The Prince of Saijins wasn't allowed to keep anything that could help him escape. Of course, Vegeta was powerful enough he could easily blast down the door, overpower Syx, and head on his merry way... but, then again, there was Freiza. Freiza who could completely pJ0\/\/|\| him in an instant. Instead of pursuing a course of action that would end in his probable demise, he chose to instead perform a type of quiet rebellion.  
  
In accordance to the rules, however, Vegeta lived modestly. His cell was painted a stoic off-white, and contained three pieces of furniture: the bunk bed, the bookcase, and the toilet. He slept on the top or the bottom bunk depending on whatever he was in the mood for (except when he had a "visitor", then he always slept on the bottom). The bookcase was specially made for him, and filled the entire back wall (opposite of the door). His collection began when Radditz had returned, successfully bringing him what he desired.  
  
It was day 752 on their cosmic calendar when the loyal servant was granted time to see his master. "I have reading material as per requested," the older Saijin held up a book. Vegeta remembered idly thanking the other man, or saying a job well done, but he was really focused on the phone cord at the time.  
  
'We can travel through space,' he thought, 'but we can't have cordless phones?' It boggled the mind, and he nodded to whatever Radditz was saying, adding "uh huh" or "yeah" whenever there was a pause. Syx came up to him sometime later, and he quickly said goodbye.  
  
It wasn't that Radditz was a jerk and he didn't want to be around him, but he usually didn't care about what the elder had to say. All in all, the third class acted more professionally than this superior, but Vegeta _was_ young and naive. Honestly, Radditz could've been any race and Vegeta would've treated him the same. As it was, he was Saijin. Vegeta, Nappa, and Radditz - the Brains, the Brawn, and the Whatever Else Was Left.  
  
The book had to go through "customs" to make sure there wasn't anything hidden in it, physically or information wise. The entire process took three days, mostly because they had to find an inspector who could recognize the difference between a written language and scribbles, and then be able to read any language it was in. One afternoon, Syx knocked on Vegeta's door. "Special delivery," he announced, and slid the item through the slot. Vegeta got down from the top bunk and picked up the book. He wasn't too impressed with the shape it was in, but it was something to pass the time.  
  
It was a math book, and for no reasonable explanation, he absorbed it as quickly as he could read and interpret it (which turned out to be pretty fast, as a week later he was asking for more). It was like the secret you didn't want anybody to know. Vegeta had a huge skeleton in his closet, and it took the shape of him. Except his skeleton was wearing big glasses and a pocket protector. Yes, Vegeta was a math nerd. It sort of pissed him off that he was, but he couldn't help it. One mention of the Pythagorean Theorem had him as giddy as Zarbon when he won a free manicure. And don't even get him _started_ on Pi. So after four years have gone by, his collection had grown quite large.  
  
Today, he's reading something about functions, or thought he was. He couldn't be too sure considering it was in a now dead language he hadn't been exposed to so far. The prince had spared the item when on his latest cleansing mission. Frieza looked at him dubiously when he stepped out of his pod with it in his hand. Resigning, the iceling said, "It's just some numbers. What harm can they do?"  
  
There was a knock at the door. "Vegeta," Syx called for him, "I'm going to open the door. You get a roomie tonight." The prince sighed in irritation and climbed down to the bottom bunk. "He's kind of a live one," the alien warned. There was the ritualistic sounds of the door being opened, and a young man was forced into the room against his will. He stood for a moment, looking like he'd lost his last marble, and then he seemed to notice the Prince of Saijins. His eyes were elongated, an odd, deep blue color, and very sad in appearance. Vegeta raised an eyebrow and the man flinched from the tiny movement.  
  
"Soooo..." the brunette began awkwardly. He closed his book to examine the other species in front of him. He had a flat nose and long ears that extended backwards rather than sideways. His skin was a caramel kind of color with patches of varying shades of brown around the frame of his face and wrists (probably elsewhere too, but the battle suit successfully hid them). His hands and feet were partially webbed and the digits were thick and stubby.  
  
His expression was one of petrified despair, and he seemed to regard Vegeta as something to be afraid of. In his mind, he rationalized, already, that the child before him was insane. Why else would they stick a kid into a prison cell? Of course, a rather good handful of people thought he was off his rocker, but that didn't mean anything because he knew he wasn't.  
  
"I'm Vegeta," said Vegeta, "What's your name and crime? Crime first, please, it defines the person better."  
  
"Ins-subordination," the man managed to say with only one stutter, "I'm..uh...Jonei."  
  
"Insubordination? Huh. That's why I'm here too," Vegeta said, a bit relaxed knowing he wasn't rooming with someone with serious issues. To make the man feel at ease, the prince explained, "I called Frieza a fag to his face. He won't let me out until I learn my lesson, or what the Hell ever. What happened with you?"  
  
"I tried to run," Jonei explained sheepishly.  
  
"What's that? I don't quite follow you. Run from what?" Vegeta asked.  
  
There was a pause. Then the pause turned into an extended period of silence. Then the extended period of silence turned awkward. Finally, Jonei spoke again, clarifying, "I was out purging, and I tried to steal a pod and get as far away as I could."  
  
"That doesn't really say much, now does it?" Vegeta pestered him, his curiosity piqued, "Why'd you do it? I mean, yeah, it's obvious why, but..you know..."  
  
When Vegeta's black eyes met Jonei's blue ones, the prince suddenly felt a tad uncomfortable. "The yzaek," he said, as if it explained every last detail.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"The yzaek. Ochulorex deila Poux. Grargh. The Soul Langolier. It has reported documentations from Freiza planets M12 through M57 and Cooler planets J52 through J65 as well as 907A through 908V, and who knows where else," Jonei paused, noticed the young heir's blank look, and elaborated some more, "Schischig. Cordih Innex. Cujo."  
  
"Schischig. That's Pjorkian," Vegeta noted.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Hold on," the prince held up his hand in gesture for silence, "Give me a moment." Vegeta's brain had to turn several gears to switch from his math-translation track to a pure language-translation one. Pjorkian wasn't one of the most fond languages he'd learned, but it had been useful for some of the advanced calculus they had, basically, experimented with. All in all, his mind had to, and did, work like a personalized Rosetta Stone. He translated the simple words through several other languages before he could get it closer to his own. When it finally came to Saijin, he was stumped. "Neraknarog?" he said aloud in utter befuddlement.  
  
"I haven't heard it referred as that before..." Jonei honestly admitted.  
  
Vegeta redid the translations in his head, pointedly ignoring the other man. He finally caught the error of translating the second "s" sound into a symbol resembling an es-zett with an umlaut. "Ah," he said, eyebrows furrowing, "It's 'demon' then, is it?" Jonei shuddered and looked over his shoulder, as if the yzaek would be right there.  
  
"Rumor has it that Hell could not tame the damn thing, and let it run free."  
  
"Rumor says a lot of things," Vegeta replied smartly, "Why do you think it's after you?"  
  
Jonei looked at the boy in shock, his eyes widening, "Because it is." It was about this time that Vegeta began to be one of the people who believed that Jonei was off his rocker.  
  
It is noteworthy that Jonei was not.  
  
P.S. Thank you Rena Sama for Syx (the name). ♥ 


	4. Neraknarog

**A Boy and His Dog**  
_Neraknarog_  
  
Jonei turned out to be his "full-time temporary" cell mate. One thing that Vegeta learned from this was that a) he was from a race called the Larzoni and b) he was annoying. No, he wasn't _just_ annoying; he was _fucking_ annoying. Whenever Syx called lights out, the young man started to blubber and blather like an idiot, and would often pray loud enough to piss off some of the prisoners in the nearby cells.  
  
"Can't you shut him up?" Niquolaus complained to the prince. The first week he asked this question, it was less of a question and more like a threat. Niqu (for short) was easily three times Vegeta's height and did contain more muscle mass than the brunette could ever hope for, but he had a bad control on his ki abilities. (Some, like Vegeta, would ask, "What ki abilities?") One planet purging mission together and five days later his complaint turned more into a pitiful request. He didn't want to piss Vegeta off because, heck, kids with strong powers are scarier than sin.  
  
"I've tried everything," Vegeta sighed a sigh of forlorn forlornness. (Yes, the author couldn't think of anything witty to say. Just deal with it.) "I've tried rationalizing with him, but like any moron he won't listen to a word I say. I've tried a nightlight but he insisted that it did no good for how 'shoddy' it was. I've tried convincing Syx to leave the lights on. Heck, I've even tried to read to him," the prince quietly drummed on the table with one hand. He glanced between Kincaid and Bob, wondering what their next moves were going to be. He was also glad that Niqu's next question didn't pertain to his reading material.  
  
"What the Hell is he whining about anyways?" Niqu had never gotten to this point before. It was usually in the morning that he expressed his irritation - after getting a bad night's rest. No matter how he said it, it always meant the same thing: FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING SACRED AND MISTREATED, SHUT THAT PATHETIC PUSSY UP. It was mid-evening, just before dinner, when the question suddenly stumbled out of him, probably induced by hunger and boredom. He eyed Kincaid as the other man put down a pair of nines.  
  
"The Boogie Man, I'd imagine," replied the prince. The three of them watched Bob put down a pair of nines of higher suit.  
  
"What a pans," Kincaid murmured airily as he crossed his legs (and not at the ankle either). This really should've bothered the others, but they were used to it by now. Kincaid was detained from work indefinitely because he liked to dress as a woman. In fact, he liked to lure men into his mists and find the most inopportune time to reveal his true identity. Some called him a pervert, he called himself his own comedian. "Not enough people are laughing around here," he told the group one day, "We go around killing people and we laugh but it isn't the right kind of laugh. Frieza killed comedy."  
  
Niquolaus put down a pair of jacks, and Vegeta followed with a pair of kings. "Guess what?" said the nine-year-old, "Those last two cards I just played? Yeah, those were my last two cards. I'm King." The others swore in disbelief. He grinned in satisfaction and amusement, and sat back in his chair. Watching the game of "Low-Life" commence, he took a look at the clock and waited to hear Syx calling for them. It was a day of the week that'd be considered Tuesday and Three Quarters by Earth standards, and they'd be serving some wicked pepper steak for the main course. His tail swished in anticipation.  
  
His time finally came. "N, K, B, V!" Syx called from the door. It was customary for him to call the prisoners by their first initial when they were in a group. Four heads turned to him and gazed expectantly. "Well?" the guard asked, "Are you going to sit around or are you going to get your free grub?" The sound of chairs scraping the floor and a miniature stampede of feet rung through the room before leaving it in silence.  
  
Like any sort of place for the disobedient, the cafeteria didn't have a wide variety for food, but they were allowed as many helpings as they asked for. Frieza's view on this is that he didn't want weak soldiers, even if they were leaning towards mutinous criminals with no loyalty. Some actually rehabilitated and were allowed the freedom of eating whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, and doing practically anything they wanted when not on a duty. Vegeta certainly liked the food portion of the deal, but when it came to extra-curricular activities, he didn't think it really changed much from being in prison. You were much more respected in jail anyways.  
  
The Cell Block Number Bullshit "gang" chowed down ravenously. They packed away tray after tray, until just Vegeta was eating. "Damn, kid," Niqu whistled, "You must've been starving." Vegeta half-finished chewing on a stuffed grackle bun when he reached for his glass to help wash it all down.  
  
"Hey," he said defensively, in between bites, "I'm a growing boy."  
  
For the rest of the dinner break they discussed what card game they would play next, and at the end of the hour, what to do about Jonei. Gin Rummy was the answer to the first part, but they couldn't come to a collective agreement on the second. Bob, who was built like a centaur but looked nothing like one, said, "Every time he starts to cry, punch him in the face." Vegeta gave him a look of unimpressed sarcasm. "Please?" the taller man added. (By taller it is meant that he has a few more feet on Vegeta, but he still isn't exactly the tallest aliens around. In fact, he was rather on the short side.)  
  
The prince shook his head, "It'd just make him cry harder and you know it."  
  
"But it would be funny," Kincaid piped up as he examined his fingernails.  
  
"It would be _really_ funny," Niqu concurred, nodding his head to show his enthusiasm. He realized that the three of them were a bad influence on Vegeta, but he also figured that the little squirt could be a lot worse off. He felt a little bit of what he dared to call joy and perhaps a tiny bit of pride swelling when the prince gave him a bona fide smirk.  
  
At oh thirty-seven hundred on the dot, Syx came up to them and said what he said every day, "Cell Block Number Nine at attention." They stood. The guard was punctual and followed the rules; he found that this generally allowed for him to have a pleasant nap most evenings (after the convicts were put back into their cells). "Niquolaus Hraiden," Syx called out, even though the man was directly to his left.  
  
"Here," Niqu answered.  
  
"Kincaid Delaphorte," was the next name to come forth from his lips.  
  
"Right here, sugar," the drag queen replied with his general sass.  
  
"Bob Erikson," the guard began to let his boredom show through his voice.  
  
"Here," the non-centaur raised his hand.  
  
"Vegeta," Syx looked the Prince of Saijins in the eye.  
  
"Present and accounted for," was the response he received.  
  
"All right then," the guard offered them a small smile, "Let's get going, gentlemen." He turned on his heels and let the prisoners pass him. They marched in a steady beat and ignored the stares they generally received. Syx only glanced around, his eyes narrowed as if to say "mind your own business". Once they hit the hall, and were alone, things changed.  
  
"Left," called out Niqu.  
  
"Left," said Kincaid.  
  
"Left," Bob hopped on the bandwagon.  
  
"Right," Vegeta immediately followed.  
  
"Left," concluded Syx. They laughed amongst themselves and kept going.  
  
"I don't know what I've been told," Niqu began to march like a true soldier, except with a bit more flare perhaps.  
  
"I _don't_ know what I've been told!" Kincaid agreed. He gave his best impression of interpretive dance.  
  
Bob, for the sake of the second in line, added his own lyrics, "You best not eat it if it's got mold!"  
  
"Hell yeah!" Kincaid high-fived him.  
  
"Sound off!" shouted Syx as they turned into their designated cell block.  
  
"One, two, three, four!" Vegeta lead them in. Each prisoner stood in front of their respective cell door, looking forward. The doors swung open simultaneously.  
  
The quartet ended their routine, "One, two! Three, four!" And that was the number of doors that closed in unison.  
  
Vegeta happened a look-see at his top bunk and saw Jonei sleeping up there. To be honest, the prince was surprised that he didn't awaken as the young man always had frayed nerves. Sometimes the mere sound of Vegeta turning a page in a book got him up. He thought it best not to second guess the reasoning because if Jonei were to wake, the prince wouldn't be getting much sleep himself. So whatever this was, Vegeta decided, it was a blessing in disguise.  
  
He hummed very, very quietly to himself as he examined his book shelf. Choices, choices... The brunette wanted something that would put him to sleep so he'd get a good, long rest for the first time since Jonei's arrival. Running his fingers over the books' spines, he read the titles slowly to make the perfect decision. Algebra? Geometry? Calculus? Trigonometry? He finally snagged one about Infinite Series and got into bed, cautiously.  
  
_Theorem 2: Let f(n) be a function which is either always positive or always negative for all integers n > N, where N is a positive integer. Further let f(n)..._  
  
Vegeta set his book against his chest and looked up at the top bunk, a contemplative look on his face. He swore he heard something. A soft sound, like something very sharp was delicately, and smoothly, cutting something. He turned his head and listened attentively with his Saijin ears. After a few moments, it did come again, and it was a bit louder. It sounded more like a scuffling this time, as if the sharp object had turned into something with the same properties and traits of sand paper. It was odd. Had rats somehow gotten into the ventilation? He thought they'd all been exterminated. Shrugging, the prince went back to his book.  
  
_...= p(n)/q(n), where p and q are polynomials of n with rational coefficients and let..._  
  
He swore he heard something again, but when he strained to define it, it eluded him. It was irritating, especially because he knew if it continued, he'd be mistranslating things again. Math got so much more complicated when you couldn't make sense of why the numbers were doing what they were. He gave several attempts to read the mathematical logic before he gave up and closed his book. It was perfect timing.  
  
"Lights out," Syx's voice rang out through the PA. Soft light from the upper windows filtered onto the floor. (They were presently passing a small system, but the distance from the sun dimmed its light to something equivalent to moon beams.) Vegeta let his eyes adjust before he got up to put his book in its proper place. As the bound paper left his fingertips he felt that odd sensation as if someone was watching you. He straightened his posture, then looked to his right. Jonei was sitting upright, his face a frozen expression of horror as he stared at the prince.  
  
"What?" Vegeta asked as he scowled at the older male.  
  
When he was only greeted with silence, the prince prepared to complain. However, at that exact moment, his hearing picked up that sound again. A soft click-click of something scratching at..the wall? Vegeta couldn't make out the direction from where it was coming from. The noise was definitely louder, he noted. The stare his roommate was giving him wasn't directed at him, the boy realized; he was focusing beyond the small figure. Curious, the boy thought to himself. It rang loud, suddenly: CLIICK-CLIIICK.  
  
It was all Jonei could stand, and he released a blood-curdling scream. "Hey now," Vegeta frowned and winced, "There's no need for that." The Prince of Saijins was promptly ignored and the alien tumbled off of the top bunk in his frenzy. "What the Hell is wrong with you?" Vegeta growled now, agitated that the yelling had not ceased. Jonei ran to the door and began to pound on it heavy and hard with both fists. "Stop it!" Vegeta tried to shout over Jonei's hissy fit. He growled again, but it reverberated deep and guttural. It then dawned upon him that the growl was not his own.  
  
Jonei was sobbing his head off in hysterics. He pleaded to be released and prayed to whatever god or gods he believed in. Vegeta stepped away, lest he be attacked by randomly flailing arms and fists. The convict splayed himself against the door, hoping that he'd just magically flow through the thick metal. The growl intensified, magnified, and became a new sound altogether. It was still a growl, but it just was..something else too. The shadows seemed dense all the sudden, and they seemed to move like a thick liquid. There was something there. Something was emitting that indefinable sound.  
  
The alien stared at it, his lip trembling. He was mute from terror as he stared his death in the face. In retrospect, what happened next was rather anti-climatic.  
  
It reared forward and snatched off his head like it was nothing. Vegeta watched, stunned, as that something crunched its teeth through bone as if it was nothing more than a crunchy snack. Flesh tore as easily as meat comes off of really tender barbequed ribs. The thing devoured what was left of Jonei in six simple bites. When it began to lick the blood from the floor, it seemed to have noticed the prince.  
  
Vegeta fell back onto his rump and he scooted away until he hit the bed. He watched the thing approach, light hitting the creature, but then - no - it was filtering through the creature as well.. Vegeta's eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he tried to remain calm - even as the monstrous form padded towards him like a silk nightmare. The air around him got cold. It was so cold he could see his own breath billowing in little puffs. He stared at the monstrosity, but it was more like the monstrosity's teeth they were so close. Giving up, he closed his eyes as to not witness his own murder.  
  
Abruptly, the Prince of Saijins began to laugh. He couldn't resist the smirk that formed upon his lips as he spoke, "It could be worse..." He found his eyes opening again, and he was gazing into the dark hole of the thing's mouth where he was certain the thing wanted him to be. Laughing a bit harder, he concluded, "...Dodoria could eat me."  
  
He laughed even harder, which seemed to confuse it. It was true that Vegeta did feel afraid at that moment in time. In fact, he was scared out of his wits. What made him special was that he also felt very, oddly, _angry_. The anger, however, wasn't directed at the creature. Rather, he was upset at himself for ever thinking to give in like a coward.  
  
He tipped his head back to look the thing in the eye. It was at this point that Vegeta came to an extremely important conclusion. The thing had no definite shape. Yes, he knew he was looking into its eyes, but at the same time, they didn't seem like eyes at all. The shape was changing, flowing with its movement, its motion from just _being_. The mouth seemed to allow Vegeta to see its fangs. The sharp, white teeth as huge as his fist seemed to be trying to provoke him. It was almost as if it was attempting to make the prince cower like Jonei had. The royal would have none of it.  
  
"So?" Vegeta all but taunted it, "Are you going to eat me?" It did not move, as if it was regarding him. Something else came to Vegeta then. The indefinite shape of the monster seemed to have some sort of form. At least, in his mind he could see it. Hollow and vague, it was still distinguishable. It looked like a dog, albeit a very large and terror-inducing dog.  
  
Vegeta had met a few animals in his time, and they all liked to do the same thing: sniff around. Using this knowledge, he extended his hand palm up. It looked down to his hand, then back at his face. "It's alright," the boy urged, "I'm not going to hurt you. You know that." It leaned down slowly, watching the child suspiciously. It was so close Vegeta could almost feel it. Goosebumps rose up his arm, and he felt his muscles tense from the cold.  
  
Finally he heard the intake of air, and could feel it as well: SNIIFF-SNIIIFF. The brunette smiled a little nervously, but kept his resolve up. It looked from his hand to his face where it stared. Vegeta offered a bigger smile, but now the fear was fading. The room was silent as the two locked eyes. Then it did something quite unexpectedly.  
  
It bent forward again and licked the prince's hand. It felt like chilled hair gel was being spread over his palm, but there was no residue left on his skin. Vegeta gazed at his hand in astonishment; all his previous worries evaporated. "You're the yzaek," the boy said. Its gaze was relentless and bland.  
  
"You're Neraknarog," the Prince of Saijins whispered.  
  
Vegeta didn't know it was possible, but the dog _grinned_.  
  
P.S. Thank you Rena Sama for your help. THANK YOU MUCHLY. You can read further about this theorm at:  
infiniteseriestheorm.org 


	5. Saijin's Best Friend

**A Boy and His Dog**  
_Saijin's Best Friend_  
  
Vegeta was awakened from a sound sleep by Syx. The guard was peering down at the boy with a concerned expression. After the prince's eyes focused, and he could see the said expression, he grumbled, "What?" He got up from the bottom bunk and moved zombie-like towards the toilet. Yawning, he proceeded to use the restroom while tossing a glance over his shoulder, again asking, "What?" Syx was now holding a contemplative look with his lips pressed into a fine line.  
  
"Vegeta..do you know where Jonei is?" the guard hated to ask. There was a minor sound alteration in the urination. No matter what the prince said, Syx knew that he knew now.  
  
Yet, Vegeta's response was an honest one, "Haven't seen him since last night." He "washed" his hands on a moist towlette and tossed it into the trash bin. Folding his arms, he turned to face the guard, "What do you want to know?"  
  
"What happened to Jonei?" Syx was blunt; he knew the prince appreciated it. The boy wasn't one who was big on subtlety. The first thing Vegeta did, however, was sigh. He went back to the bed and sat down.  
  
He finally spoke, "Would you believe me even if the truth sounded ridiculous?"  
  
Syx nodded affirmative, and he meant it. The guard would've trusted Vegeta with his life, if it ever came to that. A boy as he may be, he was still an amazing singular sensation. Syx had met a few Saijins before in his lifetime, but none were as defining as the Prince. Most members of the species embraced what they believed themselves to be: a brutal, war-mongering, prideful, insensitive race who were highly narcissistic and power hungry. They were warriors, as simple as that.  
  
As it is with any case, there is an exception to the rule, and Vegeta was that exception. Syx wasn't dense; he knew of the boy's book hobby. He'd been watching over him for four years. He'd learned how well Vegeta fit into the Saijin mold, which was like a glove.. at the O.J. Simpson trial.  
  
Perhaps his difference was due to his mostly-solitary confinement, or maybe it had to do with his tremendous loss, but he was becoming a creature completely unique, despite what his DNA had precoded. He was intelligent and capable - hardworking, persistent, and dedicated - a military strategist as well as a cunning, tactical leader. He was also very funny, and in turn, charismatic. It wasn't just that he was a prince, or even the Prince of Saijins for that matter, it was that he was an extraordinary "one of the guys". He was the guy every one of the other guys wanted to be, but liked him too much to hate him.  
  
No one talked down to him because either he'd make them regret their words, or he'd somehow manage to get them to apologize. Syx was almost scared to see what he'd be able to do as an adult. No wonder Frieza had him locked up. The space lizard could probably sense what kind of spirit the boy had and wanted to crush it. Unfortunately for the tyrant, it seemed that isolation only helped solidify the bold attitude Vegeta had adopted. This was the brunette's nature. This was who he truly was.  
  
And Vegeta was honest with those that he trusted. "Some_thing_ killed him last night," the prince informed.  
  
"Go on," Syx gently pressured.  
  
"It's what Jonei was always crying about. He was worried it would get him."  
  
"So he talked to you about it a lot?"  
  
"Not really. Not unless I brought it up."  
  
"What was it that killed him?"  
  
"Apparently, it has a lot of names. Jonei usually called it the yzaek."  
  
"Wait," Syx shook his head a bit, as if to clear out any unnecessary thoughts, "The yzaek? The rumored monster so evil that even Hell wouldn't allow it to be one of its demons?*"  
  
Vegeta's answer was simple, "Yes."  
  
The guard realized he had entirely new problem on his hands. Sighing, he sat down next to the prince and didn't speak for a long time. "Listen," he finally spoke, turning to the boy, "This isn't going to go over quietly. Jonei is dead one way or the other, you know what I'm saying? So here's what we're going to have to do. We're going to say you killed Jonei."  
  
"So you believe me.."  
  
"Yes," Syx immediately replied, then continued, "We're going to say it was out of self-defense. He went ape-shit for whatever reason and you ki-blasted him into oblivion, so that gets rid of the body. I came to see what the problem was and helped clean up."  
  
"Wouldn't you have recorded this earlier then?"  
  
"So I'll have to lie a little. No big deal. Even the tapes can be easily adjusted. I'll tell Frieza that I didn't want to interrupt his slumber for something as trivial as that flaky Jonei."  
  
"And you think he'll believe you?"  
  
"He liked Jonei about as much as the rest of us. He'll eat up my story like candy.. assuming it's candy he likes... If he even eats candy..."  
  
***  
  
By the end of the day, everyone knew that Jonei had gone completely bonkers (finally) and died in the middle of the night (finally). Vegeta got a standing ovation whenever he entered a room, but he merely "ignored" it. (Later he would pass the praise to Neraknarog, he thought.) In the minds of the rustic warriors though, this only seemed to be a more heroic act. "Look at him acting so cool," he once heard a soldier whisper to another, "It's like he doesn't have a care in the universe. I wish I could be him."  
  
His friend responded with, "Who wouldn't give to have killed Jonei, even if it was an 'accident'? That's one amazing man." It was an odd habit for people to refer to Vegeta as an adult, but it went unquestioned. He was admired for this strength and cunning, which earned enough respect that him being a child did not matter. Besides, he acted more mature than most of the adults around there.  
  
Dinner that evening was something akin to giant stuffed okra. It could also be compared to as a pot pie gone terribly wrong, but tasted, at the very least, ten times better than it looked. Today, Vegeta ate leisurely and chewed before he swallowed. The "gang" was terribly excited about the recent death and would not shut up about it. Whenever Vegeta was asked a question he'd nod, or shake his head, or make a weird gesture that could be interpreted any which way.  
  
"The poor kid," Kincaid said airily (he had a knack for it, in fact), pointedly noticing the incredulous looks he was receiving. He grinned a bit and concluded, "He was the only person we could pick on and the only source of entertainment. With him gone, now who will we make fun of? Alas, such a dilemma to be placed into." He laughed at his own joke, whatever that specifically may of been. Syx suddenly approached the table, hands behind his back. Cell Block Number Nine looked at him curiously, especially since he was wearing a wide, toothy grin.  
  
"What's up?" Niqu asked him, nodding his head once in an upward motion, "We still have a few minutes left.."  
  
"Exactly," the guard replied, his smile smug. He revealed his hands and produced four small boxes. He set them on the table and stood back. Baffled, the four prisoners stared at the plain objects, then blinked up at their "superior". Sighing, Syx's eyes fluttered the way people's do when they're thinking "puh-leeze". After another moment of silence, he raised his voice, "Well? Aren't you going to open them?"  
  
With hesitance that Syx didn't exactly appreciate, the quartet flipped open the lids of their boxes. Four pairs of eyes simultaneously widened. "N-No way.." Bob released the two words as more of a breathy sigh than anything else. Kincaid could tell that he was drooling, but he didn't care one bit. Niquolaus kept murmuring curse words over and over again to show his awe and appreciation. Vegeta seemed too stunned to move, but he finally looked up at Syx.  
  
"How?" he managed to squeeze out as excitement was already churning through his veins. At once, he felt so very indebted towards the guard, and a swelling of gratitude made him want to hug the man.  
  
"Doesn't matter," Syx smiled, then abruptly turned around, "Enjoy." He walked off. The group of companions looked at one another before they grabbed their forks and dug in.  
  
Vegeta couldn't remember the last time he'd had dessert it'd been that long. Frieza viewed them as exactly what they were called: treats. And prisoners did not deserve any type of reward. Of course Vegeta enjoyed a nice steak as much as the next male, but very fine, well done desserts were a rare occurrence. That evening, for the first time in years, he ate a perfect sugar concoction called cheesecake.  
  
Moans of taste bud ecstasy rang out across the table. The accompanying sounds were of the forks scraping the boxes and Vegeta's tail going thump, thump, thump against his chair. They ate slowly, savoring the flavor, the texture, the knowledge that they were eating forbidden food.  
  
The prince sighed in utter bliss. "I've died and gone to Heaven," he declared.  
  
"No," Kincaid disagreed, "_Jonei_ died and went to..to..."  
  
"Hell?" Bob tried to help him out.  
  
The drag queen shook his head, took a bite, and spoke while chewing, "No way. Jonei wasn't evil, he was just a putz. He wouldn't go to Hell. He'd go to someplace like..uh..HFIL - a Home For Infinite Losers." They all shared a laugh.  
  
"Yeah, if there was only such a place.." Niqu finally joined the so-called conversation. It was at that time though, that they decided to go silent and simply enjoy the cheesecake. They all felt like it was over too soon. Sitting in companionable silence, they stared at nothing with a look of divine satisfaction. Time passed quickly, and Syx came up to them again. His tone was rather gentle and informal, as if he was trying not to disturb them.  
  
"Gentlemen - Cell Block Number Nine - at attention, please," he said, smiling genially. Name calling commenced as per usual, and they walked leisurely back to their cells. Saying goodnight, each went into their respective room, but Vegeta had a visitor.  
  
Neraknarog was sitting in front of his book case. The prince stopped short, feeling chilly despite his warm clothes, and locked eyes with the creature. The longer he gazed upon it, the more of a semi-definite shape formed out of it. It breathed deeply, making an odd sound of wooden and metal gears working together in a sort of rhythmic chink-chank-chunk-chank-chink-etc., etc. rumble. The prince was certain that this was a piss-poor analogy, but it was the best his head could decode the sound for now. It stared at him evenly from two caverns within its head-shaped mist. Last night he'd looked intangible, but right now he appeared to be very touchable and very solid.  
  
"Hello," said the boy.  
  
"Hello," said the dog.  
  
Vegeta was simultaneously shocked and confused, which almost caused the mixture to churn into fear. He got very distinct impressions around the "super-demon", such as what its intentions were. "I'm going to eat you" was the easiest of the ones to figure out, and they gradually got more complex. Imagine trying to decipher "the algorithm is, in fact, invalid, and the variables presented are the root of the problem" from reading the eyes of an entity that you weren't even sure had eyes. (Neraknarog had never said such a phrase concerning math, but it was something similar in the level of difficulty.) From the experiences of the previous night, Vegeta had come to the conclusion that the monster had no need, want, or any sort of ability for words.  
  
This was one of the many things he'd be wrong about. For example, his first impression was that it was some sort of concentrated evil. After Neraknarog had licked his palm, however, he believed the thing to be rather unmalevonant. This was true to the extent of the brunette (everyone else was up for grabs). In short, Neraknarog could talk. How exactly he did this, Vegeta had no clue. The voice of Neraknarog was something he just couldn't grasp. Eventually he stopped trying to figure it out in fear of his brain attempting to flee his cranium to save itself.  
  
The brunette tried several times to say something else, but he kept fumbling at the last second. Eventually, he managed to say again, "Hello."  
  
The dog replied with its silent voice, "Hello, Vegeta."  
  
That was it. It wasn't that the creature was speaking, it was that the way it communicated was on a completely different pitch. A pitch that, probably, for all intents and purposes, didn't even exist. Carrying a conversation with the yzaek was like having a chit-chat with a silent movie. You watch the mouth move, then the words come to you and you interpret them. Of course, Neraknarog didn't move his mouth to speak, and the words uttered by the thing gave the direct impression that there was no way to misinterpret them. Also, he wasn't too certain, but he assumed that it might have been telepathic speech. The reason why he didn't know was simple - he'd never had another voice in his head but his own, but then the concept got into the complexity of how Vegeta thought.  
  
For the sake of explanation, here's a simplified version: The Prince of Saijins could _not_ hear a voice in his head. His brain was not built for it. His mind, itself, did not contain ears. Since he was not deaf, his thoughts took reference around vocalization. This meant he had an "inner voice", but since his mind had no vocal cords, it sounded nothing like a real voice. If Neraknarog had any ability to "distort" a person's mind, it'd be easier than easy to speak without speaking to a Saijin. (To further kill any confusion, all this means is that tinkering with a brain of a person who has psychic abilities makes them more apt to understand mental communication. Also, you can fucking kick me if this still doesn't make sense BECAUSE I OBVIOUSLY DESERVE IT.)  
  
Vegeta suddenly spat, "Everyone's happy that you killed Jonei."  
  
The dog did not reply for some time, "Except Jonei."  
  
The prince laughed, which didn't seem to be the response Neraknarog was expecting. Then the child suddenly gasped, holding his hand up to his mouth. His eyes widened in amazement, as if surprised that he'd rattled off a bunch of "ha"s in succession and meant them. In truth, he was. No one had made him laugh quite like that in as long as he could remember. Sure his "gang" was amusing and he _did_ laugh, but not like _that_. Kincaid would have shed a tear for the monumental success in humor's history.  
  
Vegeta smiled and let it broaden. Neraknarog wasn't evil; he was positive of that now. Misunderstood, and perhaps not quite acquainted with the traditions of the living, the dog was just wandering the universe aimlessly. The diminutive figure grinned nicely at the creature of rumor and thought maybe it just needed a friend.  
  
Vegeta, he... needed a friend. Sure there was Niqu, Kincaid, Bob, Syx, and possibly Radditz and Nappa...but he wasn't close to them on any sort of personal level. Three of them were his "buddies" (sort of like those war-buddies), one was a guard, and two of them he hardly ever saw. (When he did see the Saijins he was always nostalgic with the one, and unimpressed towards the other.) He was still very uncomfortable with revealing his small math treasury to anyone. With the yzaek, this was not a problem.  
  
"So.." said the prince as he walked towards his bed. He could feel the heavy gaze of the dog on him like a ratio of 2:1. He turned slowly and sat stiffly on the bottom bunk. Lacing his fingers, the prince bent over, leaning his forearms on his knees. He looked at the dog who looked back in a way that seemed to reek of finer experience in regards to the art of intimidation. "Why didn't you kill me?" Vegeta asked meekly, nervously twiddling his thumbs.  
  
"Why do you think?" was the response he received.  
  
"Because..I..laughed?"  
  
"There are different types of laughter," the dog agreed, "I'll leave you with that."  
  
Vegeta decided to inquire upon another topic that was bugging him, "Why are you here?"  
  
"It has been my understanding that friends stay within each other's company at times."  
  
Friends. The prince was only thinking about a possibility of having the dog as a companion, and already he had his friendship. The boy didn't know it was possible, but he got a warm, fuzzy feeling somewhere within his innards.  
  
Friends.. Vegeta, the guy everyone liked superficially, but would look the other way if he was in trouble (or even worse, watch and do nothing). Vegeta, the guy with hoards of fair-weathered compatriots, but no one he could respect.  
  
Friends... Neraknarog, a demon, a creature, a monster, an embodiment of evil that people feared. Neraknarog, a thing of myth, legend, and rumor, who hunted people, committed homicide, and often ate his victims.  
Friends.  
  
_Best friends._  
  
  
*You may note that Syx slightly contradicts what Jonei said about Neraknarog's history. Regardless, both are incorrect.  
  
P.S. Thanks Biscuit for a lovely analogy! w00t! 


	6. Rockin' the Cradle

**A Boy and His Dog**  
_Rockin' the Cradle_  
  
It was very quiet within the capsule, with only the hum of machinery to fill the noiselessness. Systems and galaxies and other vague space structures passed by. Dust churned, stars grew slightly older, black holes wandered like they so often did, and Vegeta flipped a page in his book. He was returning from a routine purging mission and was simply trying to pass the time. He was impressed with the material he'd found and its complexity. Luckily, it was in a language very similar to one he'd already known, so translating it wasn't too difficult. Imaginary numbers. Why didn't he think about these more often? This was where some true fun took root. He chuckled at the minor pun, but then suddenly felt very self-conscious and silenced himself.  
  
A voice like thick silence spoke to him, "What is amusing?"  
  
"Nothing," Vegeta snapped, and likewise closed the book, "It was just...a stupid joke in my head."  
  
"I would like to know what it was," said Neraknarog in a way that you felt that there was no choice. Either you told him, or he poked around in your head and found out on his own. Now most creatures thoughts are not easily readable unless the mind is willing or the mind is simple, but the dog gave a very strong impression that he could pick out whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. It was a very unsettling emotion, especially if you also got to feeling as if the dog knew that you knew.  
  
Vegeta gave in with a sigh, "I was thinking how fun imaginary numbers are. Then I thought that these were a part of math where fun 'took root'. Get it? Root? Ha, ha?" The prince's laugh was flat and dead, much like unfresh road kill.  
  
Neraknarog looked at him evenly, "You seemed to enjoy your laughter more the first time."  
  
"Yeah, because the first time I didn't stop to think how retarded it was," Vegeta replied glumly. He tossed the book into the corner, now mad with it. He shouldn't waste his time with it anyways, he thought; he had better things to do. He could be training, but, then again, he was strong _enough_. Training didn't seem to give him much enjoyment, especially because he was under constant surveillance. It was all and good to show off, but he just didn't like that many pairs of eyes on him - mainly because he couldn't exactly see the reason why. Impressive as he may be, it still seemed unnecessary. Yes, fighting was fun, but who around there really appreciated it? No one fought for the fun of it.  
  
Kincaid had been right: Freiza killed comedy. Not to mention he killed millions of people everyday (or was at least responsible for their sudden lack of vitality). He also killed the idea of an education. True, learning languages was a pain in the ass, and history was too muddled by the present to get a clear study of it, and many other courses were obsolete, but math never changed. Science never changed. Water was still hydrogen and oxygen mixed together, no matter where you went.  
  
An errant thought ran through Vegeta's head, and it contained the answer to the whole idea. Knowledge was deadly, and those that had it were in positions of power. Freiza wanted knowledge to die. He wanted to murder comedy, education, and relaxation. He didn't want to rule people, he wanted to do strict business with them. Of course though, he wanted an army. A fearful, faithful army that could follow orders blindly.  
  
Vegeta hated him for this reason. The gay-looking alien wanted to destroy people in the worst way. The prince knew what his fate was supposed to be, and he loathed Freiza for it. The iceling wanted him to become the essence of Saijin: a brutal, war-mongering, prideful, insensitive prick who was highly narcissistic and power hungry. If he could turn Vegeta into that, then - Hell - he'd have nothing to worry about.  
  
The preteen was respected, and probably more than Freiza was. Soldiers followed leaders they feared so far, but a leader with _respect_ they'd follow till they were decapitated and then some. It was a simple concept, really: Freiza wins Vegeta and therefore wins over his own men. This was why Freiza hated Vegeta.  
  
Neraknarog jolted him out of his personal pity-party, "Your make a very odd expression when you are contemplating. One might call it 'funny', 'amusing', or 'humorous'."  
  
Already feeling irritated, Vegeta shot back, "Oh yeah? And what would _you_ call it?"  
  
"A look of constipation," the dog answered honestly.  
  
Vegeta pressed his lips together into a bleak, flat line. "I see," he finally said and made one "tutting" noise before he scowled out the window, "and why did you have to come with me on this mission again?" It was hard to ignore Neraknarog, but Vegeta was giving a half-hearted attempt even though he was trying to carry a conversation with him at the same time.  
  
"You requested me to come along," the creature stated, staring intently at Vegeta's face. If eyes could bore holes, the prince's head would soon be disappearing into nothingness.  
  
"Oh, did I?" the brunette mimicked Kincaid's airy "I don't give a fuck, leave me alone, and damnit I'm right even when I'm wrong" tone. His eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on something else. Look, a red giant, his mind pointed out, it's probably eating up the planets that orbited it - interesting, isn't it?  
  
"Yes," the dog said, shifting his position so he loomed over the Saijin, "You said you'd enjoy my company."  
  
"Oh, did I?" Vegeta was going for the broken record approach. Look, a brown dwarf, his mind pointed out, it's not something you see everyday.  
  
"I daresay," Neraknarog's voice turned silken and smooth, "that you're not actually angry with me."  
  
Look, his mind said, I give up, but I tried my best. Vegeta huffed and turned to the monster. He stared at the massive form that filled the capsule's inner cavity. "Hey," he responded defensively, "a little bit of anger is good for the heart."  
  
"That may hold some truth," admitted the dog, "but too much will taint."  
  
"I don't like philosophy," Vegeta grumbled, turning sullen again, "I like things laid out and simple. Things that you can't debate. Two plus two will always equal four. I like that."  
  
"You mean you like security."  
  
"It's the only thing that doesn't change in my life. That's all I ask for."  
  
Vegeta kicked back for the rest of the ride and entertained himself with Neraknarog. They played "I Spy", "Animal, Vegetable, or Mineral", and then had a healthy discussion about the prince's new turn in life. Actually, Neraknarog spoke more and Vegeta basically sat back in confusion, staring up at into the non-eyes of his friend with astounding blankness and ignorance (which just so happened that naiveté and innocence followed directly behind this one). "You are changing," Neraknarog pointed out the obvious because it didn't seem so obvious to Vegeta.  
  
The brunette tried to act like it was regardless of the truth, "Of course I am. I'm getting older every second. Always changing. Fact of life, that is. Change. It happens."  
  
"Yes," the dog agreed, "You are getting older." If the Saijin didn't know any better, he'd say this murderous menace was hinting to something. Neraknarog paused, hoping that Vegeta would say something. When he didn't, he continued, "Things happen when you get older. Other changes."  
  
"I get taller?" Vegeta said hopefully, brightly. The preteen had seen other people grow taller. It was something he believed would eventually happen to him.  
  
"Yes," the dog said, slowly losing all hope for the "discussion". Shifting, it lied down across the machinery with a small sound. It wasn't sure where to begin, but it felt like it should do something. Vegeta was changing, and he wanted Vegeta to be comfortable. Pondering away for a few moments, the monster finally came to a decision, "Ask them about it." (Though he didn't define who they were, the them in question, Vegeta knew, was Syx, Niqu, Kincaid, and Bob.)  
  
"About what?" Vegeta was still confused, "Me getting taller?" Neraknarog managed to nod. The prince took a breath and went to ask him a question when he found that the dog was gone. His eyes narrowed at the vacant space and he crossed his arms in irritation. He spoke out loud to himself, "I hate it when he does that."  
  
Out of sheer boredom, the prince activated the transmitting stasis device, or as he called it, the sleep-causing thing. No need for euphemisms. He quickly drifted off as whatever it was kicked in. He had strange dreams.  
  
He wore a suit. It wasn't a battle suit, it was a jacket and slacks combo kind of suit. Unlike the mold of a Saijin, the clothes fit him like a glove - a glove that perfectly fit him. It was black, but covered in something similar to binary code. It looked more like the Matrix, though, and it was green and everything. It was also blatantly obvious that he was taller. That, and he was singing. What the Hell?  
  
"Thirteen, thirteen, lucky number thirteen./ No need to gamble, no need to dream. Lucky, lucky thirteen."  
  
God, he hated having dreams like this. His mind asked his body to wake up to take him away from this crap. Sorry pal, some part of him replied, the sleep-causing thing, remember? Yeah, you put it on, the part reminded.  
  
"Life's a film noir, so drink up your drink./ Twelve shots you miss, but not the thirteenth./ Never wear your heart on your sleeve, but trust in lucky, lucky thirteen."  
  
Who was he singing to anyway?  
  
"The control panel going beep, beep, beep. Oh lucky, lucky, lucky thirteen."  
  
Say what?  
  
"Vegeta, wake up." Hold on, he definitely didn't sing that. That was the familiar sound of someone not speaking. He willed his eyes to open, and he looked at Neraknarog groggily. "We have arrived," informed the dog. Vegeta yawned and stretched. Leaning forward, he reached through the yzaek and flipped a switch on the control panel. The beeping immediately stopped.  
  
Neraknarog got up and walked away, leaving Vegeta to himself. The prince grumbled and crouched low, opening the capsule's hatch. Looking out onto the dock, he noted not only the high traffic/audience, but the decorations as well. Nappa and Radditz were waiting for him, both dressed in their best. Eyeing everything with suspicion, Vegeta approached very slowly. When he came to the other Saijins, he spoke softly, but enunciated clearly, "No details. Just tell me what's going on."  
  
With a humble bow, Radditz replied, "Happy Birthday, Your Majesty. We are celebrating your thirteenth birthday and, consequently, your coming of manhood."  
  
"Oh, really," said Vegeta.  
  
"Sir, we have gotten you a fine gift," Radditz hoped to distract him, "Will you allow us to present it to you?"  
  
The brunette looked up at the pathetic face of the third class and sighed. It was like kicking a sick puppy if he refused. Folding his arms, he stared into Radditz's eyes, "Very well." Smiling, the elder ran off into the crowd. Vegeta looked at Nappa who looked at Vegeta with uncertainty. Unable to stare at stupidity for long, the prince turned his gaze elsewhere. There certainly was a lot of people in the dock. Were these people he knew? Or was supposed to know?  
  
Radditz returned, bowed, then stood sideways and announced, "ALL HAIL HER GRACE, PRINCESS YSABELLA THE FOURTH OF MOURIR." The crowd parted for a beautiful woman in an elegant, ornate dress. She had what some would call an olive complexion, and a heart-shaped face. Her hair was a burnt orange and a deep red, like a burgundy almost. Green eyes shone like emeralds beneath the mascara-filled eyelashes. She walked like the royalty that she was, carrying her large gown after her. It had plenty of girly things on it like pearls, lace, frills, and shit guys could care less about. "ALL HAIL HIS GRACE," Radditz finished the introduction, "PRINCE VEGETA THE FORTY-THIRD OF VEGETA."  
  
Ysabella stopped short as she stared at the diminutive figure in front of her. Word of mouth said that Vegeta was not only a superb but vaguely unruly general, but also that he was..well..a _man_. With that thought embedded in her head, she hissed out in surprise, "A child!?" She gaped rather comically in confusion as the prince edged towards the other Saijins.  
  
Putting his left hand up to the right side of his mouth, he not so quietly asked Radditz, "**what's with the woman?**" It was like trying to shout a whisper, it didn't conceal your voice, but rather just showed how obnoxious you were.  
  
The older man shuffled a bit and began to sweat from being so nervous, "Your Highness, Ysabella is your bride."  
  
"**bride, huh? what's she do?**" Vegeta asked, watching as the lady he was speaking about began to turn red.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"**i mean, what can she do that a man can't do?**" he rephrased the question.  
  
At this point, Ysabella was nearly turning purple, and she could not hold her tongue any longer, "I can hear you, you know!"  
  
Vegeta ignored her, "**does she cook or something?**"  
  
"I can hear you!!"  
  
Vegeta kept on, "**clean maybe?**"  
  
Radditz faked a smile and tried desperately not to make eye contact with Ysabella, "Your Majesty, may we speak in private for a moment?"  
  
The brunette put his hand down and nodded, "Sure." Radditz lead him away from the crowd (and the fuming princess) to a small, secluded location nearby. After making sure that they had not been followed, Radditz looked down at his liege and sighed.  
  
"Ysabella can cook and clean."  
  
"A lot of good that does me in prison," retaliated Vegeta.  
  
"About that.." the third class began, watching as the prince raised an eyebrow, "You won't have to stay in a cell anymore. In fact..uh..you get a suite."  
  
"Wait, wait, wait!" Vegeta put both his hands out in the stop gesture. His eyes were a bit wider than normal, and you could almost sense the gears turning inside his head. He pointed at the third class and voiced his thoughts, "You're telling me that I get a suite where I can come and go as I please? That I'll have someone who will cook me anything I want whenever I want, and clean up after me? Am I right?" Radditz hesitated, not knowing where this was going, but he eventually nodded. "Well, Hell!" Vegeta threw his arms up, grinning, "Why didn't I get married earlier!?" Radditz couldn't help it - he laughed.  
  
Neraknarog merely watched and waited. 


End file.
